


Happiness Is A Warm Gun

by emeiyonemillion



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Blood and Violence, Drug Use, Gun Violence, M/M, Murder, Murder Family, Violence, mafia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:41:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28420038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeiyonemillion/pseuds/emeiyonemillion
Summary: Mafia AUORPaul was never fond of his heritage. Sure he enjoyed the luxury and being born directly to the top of easy street was something anyone would enjoy, but there was something about it that was always uncomfortable. Even when he was little he was curious as to where all this money came from. His mother had died, and even before then she didn't work, and his father never seemed to leave for work, constantly talking with a table-full of friends and family about things Paul "would understand when he was older". And now he's older, but he still can't seem to understand that his father is the mob boss of a very large, very powerful crime ring.
Relationships: George Harrison & John Lennon & Paul McCartney & Ringo Starr, George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	Happiness Is A Warm Gun

Paul followed closely behind Mike as they make their way through the forest. The sun was beginning to rise but it was still relatively dark, enough to have the two on high alert. Usually it was just Mike that went out, but the family thought it would be safer for him to have a companion. Besides, it would be good for Paul, give him a little experience.

Paul was never fond of his heritage. Sure he enjoyed the luxury and being born directly to the top of easy street was something anyone would enjoy, but there was something about it that was always uncomfortable. Even when he was little he was curious as to where all this money came from. His mother had died, and even before then she didn't work, and his father never seemed to leave for work, constantly talking with a table-full of friends and family about things Paul "would understand when he was older". And now he's older, but he still can't seem to understand that his father is the mob boss of a very large, very powerful crime ring. 

The four most powerful crime families in all of Europe; the Lennon's, Starkey's, Harrison's, and McCartney's. They constantly fight and sabotage each other's every move until there are no more moves that could be made. The Harrison family was starting to fall under, the Starkey's pushing them farther and farther down as they try to make their way to the top where the McCartney family had been sitting for so long, watching the others fighting and plucking them from the herd when they got just a bit too close. Eventually each family had grown a bit sick of the routine, a bit paranoid that the other families were planning something, so they sent out their young to blend in and kill the others from the inside. Collectively. Separately. No matter what price they had to pay. 

Paul had gone on one or two other missions before, but he'd never killed anyone nor watched anyone be killed (which was painfully hard to avoid). He mainly just stuck in the back and carried people's things, trying to keep his mind on anything and everything else. Mike had killed plenty, but he tried not to think about that. He was his little brother, and because of that it's Paul's job to protect him-

A twig snapped, immediately followed by the sharp crack of a gunshot. Paul instinctively dove behind Mike, who held up his own gun in defense, surveying the trees for any movement. 

It was dead silent.

Paul's ears throbbed with each heartbeat, clutching onto Mike for dear life. He wanted to run, to cry, to scream, but he knew better than to try. Mike could kill, he's done it before. He has a gun, he'll protect them. He'll protect Paul. He was safe with Mike. He was safe.

Another gunshot popped through the sky, countered by the firing of Mike's own gun. Paul flinched, and he felt Mike's weight shift over him, knee's buckling as he collapsed to the ground. His shirt and jacket were soaked with a growing puddle of maroon; it trailed down his lips and coated both his hands, staining Paul's own as he grabbed it, sobbing.

"Mike! Oh dear god, hang on. I'll get you something." Mike didn't respond, no final words or dramatic goodbyes. His eyes stared blankly up at the sky, blood dripping down his chin. His clothes were soaked beyond repair, the warm dampness of them already starting to cool. Paul brought his hand up to his lips, kissing it softly and using a finger to wipe away his tears. It only instead painted his cheeks a violent red, tears washing them down his jaw. "Mike... stay with me, please.." He desperately pressed his wrists and neck for a pulse, a fresh surge of agony ripping through his chest each time he was met with nothing. "Don't go with mum, don't leave me out here.. I can't do this..."

Watching him from the shadows, he almost felt bad for the kid and cursed himself when he felt tears sting his eyes. He raised his gun.

"Mike..." Paul cried again, collapsed beside his lifeless brother. "Please..."

A tiny voice in his head told him to shoot; to end his misery and let him go with his brother. But another voice, a bigger one, told him to help the poor kid out.


End file.
